


Liar

by dadmilkman



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M, self harm implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dadmilkman/pseuds/dadmilkman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Truth is a foreign language these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [softagendergrunge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softagendergrunge/gifts).



> second person, and its up to you to decide if its noiz or sei's pov
> 
> sorry i kind of gave up on this so its really short and kind of drops off but there like 19 fics in the noizsei tag and ive written three of them excluding this one so i would like to contribute more bc i love noizsei. so yeah sorry its so short. also let me know if theres grammar mess up and everything , u know the drill.

You’re cold, and quiet. You’re numb to emotions but so quick to anger. You hide yourself behind a smile and you tuck your problems away on the top shelve, and hope no one notices them lingering. You pretend to be happy. Other people normally believe you, and this fact makes you wonder how many others are also pretending. Lying is so easy to you these days, almost second nature.

He is quiet too, but he’s no where near as cold. He can easily see when you’re not telling the truth, and sometimes this makes you angry because your lies don’t work, but most of the time you’re just glad he understands. He doesn’t always know what to say, but that’s not for lack of effort. Sometimes he pretends to be happy, too.

You wonder if maybe neither of you are very suited for one another, considering you’re parallels of different pasts and neither of you learned how to cope. But you fix each other’s problems, so you’re each in control of something if at least not yourselves.

Besides, he’s much better help than you are.  

When the dark times come and you retreat into the corners of your mind and time goes away and you don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t do anything except lie in bed, he stays with you. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t leave the bed until you do. And he doesn’t force you into anything. You used to think this was weak of him, but now you appreciate it. You just need rest, and he’s so patient.

You’re not sure why you have to pretend to be happy. It’s so easy to pretend. To be genuine, that’s another matter entirely. You feel empty inside - no, not empty, there’s something there, a festering illness that’s clawing you apart from the inside out and sometimes you just want to reach inside your chest and take out your heart.

He’s seen it too, as often as you wear your facade he knows it’s fake. He knows how the feeling weighs you down sometimes and makes it hard to move, to breath, to stop yourself from crying and trying to run away because you think maybe you can escape the feelings if you just run and run and don’t come back. But he chases you down before you hurt yourself and holds you until your eyes dry up and you start breathing normally again.

He tries his best  to make things normal for you, as much as he can. He takes time off work when he thinks you need company and he stays and does whatever frivolous activities either of you can think of. You go out and eat and find things around the town to do and you’ve probably been to every restaurant at least twice. You’re fond of the flower garden in the park, and he takes you there as often as he can, and sometimes you stay there all day just walking through the fields, or sitting when you’re legs are tired. Sometimes you simply lie in bed the entire day, drifting in and out of sleep while he hums under his breath to fill the quiet room.

Sometimes the days aren’t so peaceful. Sometimes you lock yourself in the room and hide under the bed and he has to climb through the window to get in, or you go days without eating because you can’t feed yourself and he has to take you to the hospital because you can’t even stand up without falling unconscious, or days when he comes home from work and you’re on the verge of doing something you’d regret and he has to talk you out of it through the locked bathroom door because you won’t let him in..

Those days are a lot more frequent than the peaceful ones.

Some days are okay. Some days you wake up, and he goes to work, and you make yourself breakfast and take care of the house, and maybe even bring him lunch. And those days are okay, because you don’t let the crushing weight on your chest make you give up the hope of accomplishing anything. But those days aren’t frequent, the just “okay” ones. You tell him you’re tired of this, tired of having to pretend, tired of not knowing if you’re going to wake up and not be able to get out of bed, tired of crying for almost no reason, tired of being _tired_ , and he says he knows,  because as hard as it is for him to watch you fall apart it must be ten times as hard to be the one to live it.

He tells you you’re strong, and brave, and that you’re doing fine, and you’re okay. He’s so nice to you and it makes no sense, but you appreciate it.

You’re not okay, really, but it’s nice to hear. These are the kind of lies you don’t mind.

 

 


End file.
